


'Tis but a Crush

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Castiel POV, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Castiel discovers that he'd somehow drawn the possibly-amorous attention of a man with green eyes. It's flattering and intriguing.Now if only the man would say hello.





	'Tis but a Crush

There was a man standing by the display case.

There were other people scattered around the waiting area, most of them browsing magazines or fiddling with their phones, but this man was standing in front of the tall glass case by himself, hands clasped behind his back and face obscured as he studied the show pieces.

Castiel glanced at the front desk. Hannah was on the phone, nodding at whatever she was being told and writing on her notepad. In the back, Rachel was attending a patient with Uriel, and Anna wouldn’t be in for a while yet. There were other things on Castiel’s to-do list, but there was plenty of time for those, so he straightened up and walked over.

“Hello,” Castiel said. He’d been doing this for a few years now and was reasonably confident about his customer service demeanor – calm, friendly, non-aggressive – but the man jumped anyway, eyes wide when they settled on Castiel.

“Sorry,” Castiel said quickly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Um,” the man said. “S’alright.”

Castiel’s eyes moved swiftly – a reflex, thanks to his line of work – noting that the man’s teeth were white, well-sized, well-positioned, and damn near picturesque. Anna could very well hire him for the clinic’s posters if she wanted. But that meant little, really, so Castiel dived straight in:

“Braces?” Castiel inclined his head to the display. “These are the ceramics; we have both opaque and clear versions, though they are more expensive than the classic metal. The ones below – those are mouth guards for children 12 and under, for helping shape developing jaws.”

“Oh, I’m not – are these for _kids_?” The man stared at the showpiece in bewilderment. “Kids are growing, why the hell…” He trailed off, wincing. “Sorry, uh… I’m not – I’m just looking.”

“Of course,” Castiel said kindly. “Well, we have some brochures here if you’d like to read up on what we offer, and if you have any questions afterward, please feel free to ask more details from myself or the other nurses.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Castiel smiled as he backed up, but the man had already turned away, attention drawn to the cellphone in his hand. Hannah was done with her call at this point, and Castiel shrugged at her as he passed her desk on the way back to work.

 

* * *

 

 

Anna and Uriel’s clinic – Valiant Dental – was located on the south-side of the strip mall that was a fifteen-minute ride from Castiel’s apartment. It’s not where Castiel imagined he’d be working when he was in school, but so far he’d had no regrets in accepting Anna’s invitation. Maybe one day he’d return to a hospital, but for the moment he was enjoying the change of pace, whereby the greatest terror was having to face down suburban moms screaming about the supposedly sub-par work done on their kids. Terrifying, but manageable.

It’d been almost a year since Castiel settled there on the West Coast, a stone’s throw away from Sacramento, and he’d established a comfortable routine. Breakfast, a jog around his apartment, cycle down to the strip and (depending on who was on duty) open up the clinic and start prep. The evenings had their own routine in the other direction: closing up (depending on who was duty), a stop for groceries and/or take-out, and a cycle all the way back home.

Oh, there were variations here and there, but Castiel found that he enjoyed the relative reliability of medium- town life, especially in how his routine allowed gaps in between for hobbies and distractions.

It was part of the latter, i.e. distractions, that Castiel relished cycling around town. He’d always enjoyed cycling in itself, but indulging in that here allowed for the absorption of interesting details in the supposedly mundane: local businesses waxing and waning, college kids on their commutes, scattered big city folk persistently living their big city ways.

One such evening, while Castiel was picking up groceries, brought such a detail. He’d finished paying and had just stepped outside to repack into his bicycle bag when he noticed a huge, black car parked a few yards up on the sidewalk.

Castiel paused, intrigued, and tried to think back if he’d had a close encounter with this car before. There were only a handful of muscle cars in town, and he tended to remember them if only for how much space they took on the road while he and his bicycle were also on it. No distinct memory resurfaced, so Castiel continued packing, only to pause again when a man came out of the next-door pharmacy and went straight for the car.

Now _this_ sparked a memory, because leather jackets were also less common in this weather. As Castiel arranged his groceries and zipped the bag shut, his brain tossed up a recollection of the man in the clinic – the one who’d been looking at the display cases a few weeks ago.

Here was the same jacket, and when Castiel lifted his gaze to study its wearer, he was satisfied to recognize him as well. There was the strong jaw with stubble, hair short but tousled, and a smattering of freckles across a sharp nose.

Said man hadn’t entered the car yet, though. There was another man in the passenger seat – this with rather longer hair – and he was speaking. The exact words were inaudible but the tone was not; Castiel caught exasperation, which made sense because Mr. Not-Interested-in-Braces was still standing next to the car, concentrating really hard as he picked through his bag of purchases as though in search of something.

While Castiel put his helmet on, he thought to himself that Mr. Not-Braces couldn’t be one of Anna’s patients, for Castiel had never attended to him in Anna’s chair. Perhaps he was one of Uriel’s, or he could’ve just been accompanying someone to the clinic.

Castiel wheeled his bicycle down to the curb and dropped it on the road with a light bounce. When he looked up, he just caught Mr. Not-Braces’ quick turn away. Castiel frowned and looked down at his legs where Mr. Not-Braces had been looking at, wondering if there was dirt there that he’d missed. But there was nothing.

“Good evening,” Castiel said. Mr. Not-Braces started, eyes flickering in something that looked a lot like alarm, and he grunted something that could have been a reply.

Castiel politely tapped his helmet before kicking off on his ride home.

 

* * *

 

 

Then, the game changer.

It was a Sunday, along as Castiel’s day off, and he’d decided to check out the new bakery on the strip. Well, it wasn’t exactly _new_ , since it’d been around for at least a couple of months, but the most Castiel knew of the place were the bagels and sundry pastries that Rachel brought into the clinic every so often.

Valiant Dental was south-side on the strip, while this bakery – Buns of Glory – was north-side, and Castiel had previously only appreciated its amassing of customers from a distance. It was on this visit that Castiel could marvel firsthand the decent town-sized swarm of customers even on a Sunday morning, and upon entering the establishment took a moment to bask in the atmosphere.

It was cozy, with wall-spanning chalkboards announcing the menu, and a color scheme that leaned towards autumn – warm, sunset colors that contrasted to the blues and greens of Valiant Dental. Small, round tables and fat-legged chairs littered the main space, and this morning most of them were occupied. Castiel recognized quite a few in store – Eleanor and Rowena were at a table chatting up a storm, Rufus was at a corner scowling at his coffee, and more than a handful of familiar college kids were scattered around in bunches.

Castiel entered the queue, which gave him ample time to take in all those details and more. Then, as he drew closer to the counter, another detail made itself known: Mr. Not-Braces, who was apparently also Bakery-Man, stepped out through the door that lead to the kitchen.

Today he was wearing an apron instead of the leather jacket, though Castiel would be hard-pressed to decide which suited him more. This baker’s garb with its crisp, flour-dusted lines flattered him a great deal, as did the casually authoritative way in which he talked to the boy handling the milk frother behind the counter.

Castiel was one customer away from the front, and perked up a little when it seemed that Bakery-Man was turning in his direction. Call it strange, but Castiel derived honest pleasure from spotting any of the clinic’s customers out in the wild (so to speak). A miniscule accomplishment, but an accomplishment nonetheless, and it probably spoke to the ways that town life was warping Castiel’s brain.

But Bakery-Man didn’t look up, not even when Castiel reached the counter and placed his order with the young woman – Charlie, her nametag read. Castiel recognized her from around town, too, if only because Castiel had more than once mistook her for Anna from a distance.

“One Lemon Delight, and the mocha with foam,” Castiel said. “To go. Thank you.”

“Gotcha,” Charlie said. “We also have brownies on offer with the cupcakes, if you want?”

“Oh, yes.” Castiel fished out another note from his wallet. “I’ll have the brownie as well.”

Bakery-Man was still there, arms crossed and watching the boy work the coffee machine. It seemed to Castiel that the boy had it under control, but perhaps there were intricacies invisible to Castiel’s layperson eyes, for Bakery-Man seemed intent upon watching his underling finish up one drink and then another.

Charlie handed Castiel his receipt, and double-taked at Bakery-Man’s presence just behind her shoulder. “What’s up?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Bakery-Man said. “Kevin, come on.”

“What?” Kevin said, confused. “Dean, 'the hell’s going on?”

Castiel’s eyebrows jumped at the swear, though Bakery-Man – _Dean_ – didn’t reprimand him for it. Castiel stepped sideways to allow the next customer forward and took up a spot leaning against the collection counter, subtly watching the goings-on.

Kevin handled drinks and traded off with Charlie on setting the baked goods on plates or in boxes. It all looked perfectly in order, though Castiel thought that if Dean really found fault with anything they were doing, he could help out. But the most he did was fold the seal on some of the boxes more firmly, and even that only in between his scowling at nothing in particular.

“Mocha with foam?” Kevin said.

“Yes, thank you.” Castiel affixed the sleeve to his coffee cup, and then picked up his paper bag. He could go, but he paused, a niggling thought rooting him to the spot.

He waited, throwing caution to the wind, and looked straight at Dean.

Dean must’ve sensed it because he raised his head and – _at last_ – eye-contact. But it was fleeting, because Dean didn’t seem to recognize him, or even see him at all. His gaze just skittered past Castiel entirely, and he bodily turned away, as though pointedly ignoring him.

But there was a moment there – a flash, a jolt – that some part of Castiel’s brain recognized as being directed at him _specifically,_ even if he didn’t know exactly what it was yet.

Castiel stepped out into the street sipping his coffee thoughtfully.

 

* * *

 

 

It took a few days for the oddness of Dean’s behavior to coalesce, and for Castiel to put a possible reason to it.

He recalled a memory of Anna from when they were teenagers, and she’d had a crush on that guy whom Castiel could no longer recall the specifics of because he wasn’t worthy of Anna’s time, and the only thing memorable about the entire endeavor had been Anna herself.

Namely, the way that Anna had behaved around that guy in the earliest days. How she’d hemmed and hawed at the prospect of introducing herself, and had opted instead to merely hang around wherever he was hanging around and just… be there. To breathe the air he was breathing, or something inane like that.

It had seemed ridiculous at the time, true. But now, at the prospect of this leather-wearing baker doing the same towards him, Castiel found it interesting.

Flattering, even.

Castiel didn’t consider himself much of a catch, but he’d been told that he could be considered handsome by some, and it was nice to think here could be _actual_ evidence of someone finding him handsome.

Of course, Castiel was also aware that he could be reading too much into it. Dean _could_ have just happened to be persistently hovering nearby those times that Castiel remembered, and Dean _could_ have simply not recognized Castiel at all and reacted accordingly.

But still, it was a nice possibility to think about. Castiel knew next to nothing about the guy, and they didn’t owe anything to each other, but it was nice to fantasize a little that someone _else_ was fantasizing about him, or even just checking him out on occasion. Someone else thought that Castiel was interesting or attractive enough to want to just be in the presence of.

A little confidence boost, as it were. It was nice.

There was a way to test it, too.

By the following Thursday, Castiel’s mind was made up. He didn’t know what days Dean would be at the bakery, but this didn’t cost him much to do, so he figured might as well do it.

That morning, he went along his usual routine – breakfast, jog, get ready for work – but with some slight modifications. He put his usual work clothes into his bicycle bag, and for the ride out wore his competition gear instead.

Castiel hadn’t cycled competitively for a while, so the jersey and shorts were a pinch tighter, though not so tight to be uncomfortable. Everyone who’d ever known Castiel post-teenhood had at one point or another joked about his bike bod, but he’d only ever been conscious of it inasmuch as it enabled him to do the miles he wanted.

Today, though.

 _Today_ Castiel was conscious of his thighs and arms on display, and the elastic of his shorts around his waist, and grew ever more conscious of the above each mile down from his apartment to the strip. A part of his brain screamed at him – _what was he doing_ – but it was neatly overruled by the rest of him – _why not_. There was nothing wrong with wearing something slightly different for a maybe-thrill that might not even happen.

The bakery was open, though there were only two other customers when Castiel arrived. He set his bicycle to the wall and walked in, eyes up to the menu.

No sense in rushing, Castiel thought. It was Hannah’s duty to open up today, anyway, and Castiel could take his time picking goodies for the team.

It didn’t take long. Castiel thought perhaps not even a minute had passed from his standing at the wide display case, when Dean stepped out from the back with a tray of goods.

There was also a very faint gasp – so soft as to be missed entirely, if one were not listening out for it.

Castiel focused on the assortment of bagels and pastries, and tried not to glow. After a while he looked up, but it was Charlie there to serve him – Dean was still hanging back near the coffee machine, half-turned away as though staring at the far wall, a curled hand pressed to his mouth.

“Hello, good morning,” Castiel said, smiling at Charlie’s cheerful chirp in response. “Yes, four of the chocolate rolls, please.”

“Those are awesome,” Charlie agreed. “Do you want drinks with that?”

“Ah, not today.” Castiel kept his eyes on Charlie, but from the corner of them he could see Dean, who was now at least making a pretense of playing with his phone, despite the screen not being lit up. “I feel as if I’ve missed so much. This place has been around for a while and I’d never been until this week.”

“Oh, I thought perhaps it was a professional rivalry thing,” Charlie said with a wink. “Us being responsible for all those cavities you need to deal with.”

Castiel laughed. “Ah, far be it from myself or my colleagues to judge the joys that make us human.” Charlie handed over a bag, which Castiel took carefully. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Charlie said, with a heft of meaning.

Castiel rolled the bag as much as he could to hold securely in one hand and turned around as casually as he could to make his exit.

There was no gasp this time, but Castiel could make out Dean’s reflection in the glass door, and the Baker-Man was paying avid attention to the snugness of the old cycling shorts.

All in all, a highly productive morning, which lead into a highly productive day that not even Rachel could ruin by asking what the hell had Castiel so cheerful all of a sudden.

 

* * *

 

 

It was harmless, a silly little bit of nothing that lit up Castiel’s days on occasion. For there _were_ other occasions.

Just a few here and there: twice more in the bakery, once briefly on the strip sidewalk, and once at the gas station where Castiel was cashing a check while Dean attended his muscle car. Castiel supposed that this was what it was like to be acutely conscious of another person, and to recognize them by the sound of their steps or the mere top of their head.

These glimpses provided other details as well. Dean as person remained vague, but within a few weeks Castiel learned that he was the co-owner of Buns of Glory, that Charlie was his friend before they went into business together, that the Impala was his though he very rarely drove it to work, and that at least two of the clinic’s young patients thought he was the most charming person on the planet.

Not that Castiel had seen said supposed charm himself. Each encounter between them varied little from the one before it, with Dean saying nothing and doing nothing except wafting as close as he dared to Castiel’s presence. One time Castiel even tried walking past him, if only to enable another opportunity for eye-contact and acknowledgement, but Dean slipped away before Castiel could manage it.

It was frustrating, but Castiel didn’t blame him. It could be shyness or anxiety, or even a straightforward disinterest in actually getting to know Castiel. Dean could simply wish to look, but no more – Castiel understood the feeling in that, if only by comparing it to his penchant for gawping at antique furniture he had no desire to actually own.

But there was a possibility that Dean _was_ interested, and just had no idea how to proceed. This niggled at Castiel, wearing him down day by day until it left him feeling that he should do something about it, if only to help the guy along. Castiel didn’t date much, and certainly hadn’t tried to since he’d moved here, but Dean seemed nice. What little of him that Castiel saw, anyway.

Castiel wanted to know more.

He wanted that a lot.

 

* * *

 

 

A weekend at the farmer’s market brought an opportunity.

Castiel loved going to the market, and often made an outing of it with a friend. This day he was there with Gadreel, who wandered off to check out the fresh produce while Castiel browsed the elsewhere. There were always little treasures to be found, so Castiel took his time from one table to another, occasionally sharing small talk with the sellers or familiar faces, until – _there_! A treasure of a different sort.

Dean had a table, a little ways down the row from where Castiel stood. It was a single table and adorned simply, with a blue tablecloth and small wooden racks arranged artfully to display his wares. As Castiel approached, he realized with some delight that Dean’s table _wasn’t_ for baked goods.

There were two people already browsing there, so Castiel managed to creep up to the table with little fanfare. This had the additional bonus of being right there when Dean noticed him.

Dean jumped. Just a little jerk of his head back and his mouth falling open – irrefutable proof of Dean’s recognizing him, and that it was not all merely a figment of Castiel’s imagination.

However, true to form, Dean shifted his attention to the other two customers, leaving Castiel free to study his offerings.

Surprisingly, these were handmade household consumables. Candles, soaps, moisturizing creams, lip balms – all dispensed into charming little containers with cartoonish drawings and handwritten instructions. Castiel picked up a candle, enthralled, and sniffed it carefully.

“Uh, that’s pumpkin,” Dean said. “Everything here’s hand-made. I mean, home-made.”

Castiel nodded, and tried not to show his surprise at Dean _actually speaking to him._ It wouldn’t do to scare him off, and here at least there was the safety of merchant-customer interactions to navigate in.

“Local?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah.” Dean busied himself rearranging some of the wares on the table, apparently still struggling with eye-contact. The other customers had moved on, leaving the both of them. “My brother and his wife make these. My brother usually, uh, does the selling but he’s busy today.”

“That’s so nice of you to help out,” Castiel said. “So you didn’t make any of these?”

“I help sometimes, but not much.” Dean swallowed, and then finally lifted his head. His eyes were green, flecked with brown. Castiel smiled, welcoming, and Dean seemed to relax a little. “Just, you know, mixing stuff, pouring ‘em into the jars.”

“That is hard work, too,” Castiel said. “You need a steady hand.”

“Um. I guess.”

Castiel put the candle down and picked up one of the other samples. The moisturizer was a bit thicker than Castiel liked, but he tried it on his hand anyway, using up a handful of seconds while he waited. Surely Dean’s sales pitch couldn’t have reached its end, but he remained silent, leaving the atmosphere heavy but unsatisfied.

“Perhaps you don’t know me,” Castiel said at last, “but I go to your bakery sometimes.”

“Oh!” Dean said, voice a little shrill. “Oh, that’s awesome. You like it, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” Castiel said, heart-felt. “I haven’t tried everything yet, but I’ve made it my mission to.”

“Cool,” Dean said.

“I’m Castiel.” He offered his hand. Dean shook it, perfunctory. “I work at the dental clinic, just around the corner from your bakery.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “Yeah, I know that place.”

Castiel wavered, suddenly uncertain. He’d thrown it wide open, but nothing seemed to hit. Dean was still just standing there, polite and quiet and perhaps only waiting for Castiel to ask another product question or buy something.

It occurred to him that maybe he really had read everything completely wrong, and Dean’s surprise earlier was merely a general surprise at someone having snuck up to his table. Dean had no idea who he was, was not at all interested in anything, and hadn’t even offered his name in return for Castiel’s. So whatever conclusion Castiel had arrived at before had maybe been based on faulty assumptions, and he’d missed something else that was obvious to everyone else and explained everything. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’ll take these two.” Castiel lifted the candles. “I have my own bag.”

“Great,” Dean said. “Thanks.”

Castiel took his own sweet time paying, but there was little benefit to it. Dean gave him his change and their business card, after which there was no other excuse to loiter, so Castiel moved on to the next table, and the one after that.

It seemed foolish to feel disappointed over nothing, but there it was.

 

* * *

 

 

On Monday, Anna noticed the drop in his mood. Well, everyone noticed his drop in mood, but Anna was the only one who made a point of calling it out. At least she waited until the end of the day and the last patient had been sent off, before cornering Castiel by the sterilization machine.

“What’s up with you?” Anna asked. “You’ve been moping all day.”

“It’s silly, it’s nothing.” Castiel grimaced. “My work didn’t suffer, did it?”

“You were as professional as always,” Anna said kindly. “Just quiet. So what is it?”

“I said—”

“It’s silly, yes. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it, if you want to talk.”

It took Castiel a moment to organize his thoughts. In retrospect the whole affair seemed even more childish and self-centered than usual, and he was reluctant to voice it at all. But Anna had been a trusted confidant for years, and even if she judged it harshly, such a judgment could be exactly what Castiel needed.

“There’s a man,” Castiel said.

“Oh my God,” Anna breathed.

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

“Yes, yes,” Anna said quickly. She glanced over her shoulder, though the others were all busy elsewhere. “Go ahead. A guy. Tell me all about this guy.”

“It’s not … I don’t even know if it’s anything at all. I just see him around sometimes and I felt like – I thought maybe that he was checking me out? Which is fine, I understand that just because someone appreciates someone else’s looks that doesn’t mean that there’s the intent to follow through in any way, but the possibility was…” Castiel shrugged. “I enjoyed the possibility, that’s all.”

Anna put her arm around Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed. “So you tried and he wasn’t interested?”

“I think so.” Castiel made a face. “I’m not positive, but I think he would have said something by now. Or at the very least say hello when we see each other.”

“Oh!” Anna gasped, hand on her heart. “A shy boy. Wonderful.”

Castiel squinted at her. “ _Is_ it wonderful?”

Anna waved it off. “Anyone I know?”

“He’s one of the owners of Buns of Glory. Dean something, never caught the last name. Probably doesn’t want me to know, and I draw the line at stalking any further.” Castiel realized that Anna had gone very still and very quiet. “You okay?”

“Dean.” Anna had pursed her mouth in a straight line, as though trying very hard to control her face. “Winchester?”

Castiel started. “Is that his name?”

“Green eyes, black Impala?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, on high alert. “You know him?”

“We hang out at the same bar downtown sometimes.”

“Oh.” Castiel didn’t know how to feel about that. He wasn’t that much a fan of bars, though to be fair he didn’t care much for muscle cars either. But the baked goods and homemade cosmetics was a plus, so maybe it canceled those out, or at least made things more interesting instead of hopeless. “Is he an anxious person?”

Anna coughed. “Not that I know of.”

Then it was just Castiel who brought that out in him. Castiel felt himself deflate a little more, because what was the point of being interested in a guy who couldn’t relax around him? That was a pure dead end. “Oh well. Say hello for me, then.”

“You know what?” Anna patted Castiel shoulder firmly. “I will do exactly that.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took Castiel a couple of days to recover some of his verve, which was aided by his avoidance of the north-side bakery for the time being. It wasn’t often that he let another person dictate his behavior like this, but he feared that if he went back to their shop in this state of mind, he’d be sour-faced and unfriendly, which was would be unfair to Dean, Charlie, and the rest of the staff.

It was best for Castiel to keep a little distance and regain his equilibrium, so he did that.

Then on Thursday, after finishing up with a patient, Anna dismissed Castiel for an early lunch.

“I’ll need you for the extraction at 3, which could be complicated,” Anna told him. “Rachel can handle the light cases. Once you’re back, get the x-rays ready.”

“All right.” This happened often enough that Castiel thought nothing of it, and fetched his lunch and a book from the back to take with him.

Outside, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the sky a bright blue, and it was nice enough that Castiel was almost tempted to walk all the way to the park to make the most of it. But that was a treat for low-traffic days, and this was not one of them. The farthest that Castiel would go today was across the street, for the little patch of tables and benches in front of the library.

Castiel settled on his bench of choice and unwrapped his sandwich. He’d just about finished the first one when he registered a presence nearby, just off to his left.

He glanced up, an easy motion with no forethought, and was startled to see Dean.

Castiel continued to be startled as Dean took another handful of steps forward, eventually coming close enough that he could brace his hand on the back of the bench. He wasn’t wearing the apron, but he smelled of flour and cinnamon, and there was a light dusting of white on the rolled-up sleeves of his plaid.

They stared at each other. Or, at least, Castiel stared up at Dean, while Dean’s eyes shifted back and forth, struggling, until they finally met and held Castiel’s.

“Hey.” Dean cleared his throat, and his voice was a little steadier with his next: “Hi.”

“Hello,” Castiel replied.

“Uh.” Dean scratched his nose, leaving more white dust there. “Don’t know if you remember me, but I’m from the, um. The market, last weekend.”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “And the bakery. And the grocery store. And the clinic that one time when you were looking at—”

Dean’s face went progressively redder the more Castiel spoke, and at that last one spun on his heel and started to march away, forcing Castiel to jump up to his feet.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry,” Castiel said quickly. “Please, Dean. Wait.”

Dean froze. He turned a little, hesitant, though his face was still red.

“I didn’t say that to embarrass you,” Castiel said carefully, hoping he sounded as contrite and earnest as was humanly possible. “That wasn’t my intention. I thought I was being clever, because _of course_ I remember you. You’re quite memorable. In a good way.”

“In a _good_ way?” Dean choked. “Oh, come on.”

“Yes.” Castiel shrugged. “Save for the part where you did not at any point seem to want to introduce yourself.”

This was apparently enough to get to Dean turn and face Castiel properly, and with it Castiel realized that Dean was a little taller than him. It was just barely so, but he hadn’t suspected this at all because Dean was always hunching down around him, perhaps trying to make himself smaller.

“Look, man,” Dean said, “you’re smart and hella fit and you obviously take care of yourself like a goddamned adult, and I’m just – I barely have my shit together, and I work dough for a living but even that only in the last couple of years, so… give me a break, okay.”

Castiel tried his best to parse that. “I don’t understand.”

“Way out of my league.” Dean grinned, though it didn’t seem particularly cheerful.

“Sorry,” Castiel said slowly. “I still don’t… what?”

Dean stared. Castiel stared back, uncomprehending.

Then Dean’s face twitched through a myriad of emotions, thought Castiel was only confident enough to identify two: confusion and sheepishness. It did seem incongruous for a man of Dean’s build and stature to perfectly replicate the expression of a child caught doing something naughty, but there it was, and Castiel thought it adorable.

Thought it was probably not worth saying that out loud. Yet.

“So,” Castiel said, “do you want my number or not?”

Dean blinked. “You’re offering me your number?”

“Yes. We could try texting first, if you like.”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I’m just… Sorry, I’m just thinking about all the people who’re gonna kick my ass over _you_ giving _me_ your number.”

“It’d serve you right,” Castiel said promptly.

Dean stared, then laughed. Castiel inhaled sharply, and was transfixed by the way Dean’s face lit up, joyous and gleeful, his excellent teeth on display in a genuine grin. The transformation was startling, and Castiel realized that _this_ was probably his first true glimpse of Dean as a person.

“Funny, too,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Of course you are.”

“Give me your phone.” Castiel opened his hand, and made a grabbing motion until Dean unlocked and passed his phone over. Castiel typed his number in, and dutifully ignored the way Dean had come in close – maybe to make sure that Castiel was doing it properly, or maybe not.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Dean said quietly.

Castiel lifted his head, daring Dean to hold his gaze – which he did. “Thank you. Yours are nice, too.”

Dean coughed, tips of his ears going pink. “Okay. Thanks. Yeah.”

Castiel pressed the call button, making sure he had Dean’s number, too. “Did Anna send you out here?”

“No,” Dean said, too quickly. “Okay, yes. But not directly, she just… dropped some very heavy hints.”

“Mmm.” Castiel took his own phone out and sent Dean a smiley emoji. “I suppose this is just the way of things. Anyway, I have to finish my lunch, so…”

Dean swallowed. “Can I join you? I mean, I… I got a couple of minutes before I’m needed.”

Castiel made a show of looking thoughtful. “I don’t know. Are you sure you can handle it?”

Dean laughed again, his whole body swaying forward until he had to grab Castiel’s forearm for balance. Castiel took the added weight in good spirits, and was pleased when Dean didn’t pull away. In fact, Dean seemed to be leaning in even more, which was nice.

“I guess better get used to it,” Dean said. “You know, if we’re gonna… if we’re…”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded and drew away, leading Dean back to the bench. “Let’s.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic's [tumblr post](http://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/175939511446/i-wrote-a-thing-tis-but-a-crush-5673-words)!
> 
> And many thanks to flyingcatstiel for knocking some elements of this into shape.


End file.
